


road trip with a cannibal

by parkerbee4



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:54:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28019577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkerbee4/pseuds/parkerbee4
Summary: In which Jack forces the team into a cramped van for three days, and Will is severely overwhelmed.ORHannibal and Will bond during inconvenient circumstances.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 113





	road trip with a cannibal

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! this is my first work on here and while I'm nervous to post it I'm also really excited to contribute to the fandom! hope you enjoy :)

Will had all but begged Jack to book a flight instead of cramming the team into the cramped FBI provided van. The drive itself would take a day, not including stopping at hotels, for gas, and for bathroom breaks. Jack of course, being as stubborn as always, had adamantly refused and insisted the "road trip" would be good for team-building and to get him settled into the team's dynamics.

Fast forward a week, and the trip was now unavoidable. Will had awoken that morning in a cold sweat, having drenched the sheets of his worn and tattered bed. After dragging his hands over his visibly sleep-deprived face, he rolled onto his side to inspect the small digital clock on the bedside table. "Shit." He sighed to himself. Five AM stared back at him in bold blinking lights, meaning a meager two hours until the van packed full with his colleagues would pull into the driveway. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he slowly rose to stretch and yawn. He then made his way to the shower where he stayed for an unreasonable amount of time, trying his hardest to scrub away the feeling of sweat and grime that clung to him. Stepping out of the shower almost a half hour later, he realized he was wholly unsuccessful. Now in front of a mirror, he could properly inspect the bags that loomed heavily under his sunken eyes that would no doubt go unnoticed to Jack. Pulling on a flannel too big for his small frame and accompanying it with an ill-fitting pair of jeans, Will could almost pretend it was another routine day. This of course was interrupted by the realization that he now only had an hour before his nightmare was realized.

Now in a hurry, he packed as many pieces of clothing he could manage into his small duffel bag, followed by various essentials like a toothbrush, deodorant, and an even more important bottle of aspirin. He wondered how soon into the trip he'd need to pop the bottle open, but was well aware that it would no doubt be too soon. Lugging the bag to the front door, he briefly considered if breakfast was a viable option and immediately remembered his tendency as a child to throw up on the school bus. Deciding food was now impossible, he set out supplies for the dogsitter instead and let the pack out to play before it was time for him to leave.

Almost immediately after getting the dogs settled back inside the house, he heard the all too telling sound of a car rolling up to the front of the house. This sound, of course, was followed by the loud honking of a horn. Sighing disapprovingly, Will slowly made his way out of the door to his cozy sanctuary of a home and marched towards his own personal hell for the next three days.

Once close enough, he could see Beverly waving to him (albeit rather unenthusiastically) and an all-too-cheery looking Jack Crawford in the driver's seat. He tried to force back a grin of his own, but it undoubtedly looked more like a pained grimace. Circling to the back of the van he slid open the door only to find Brian and Price already settled into the two middle seats, leaving him to crawl into the back and throw his duffel bag into the trunk.

"Ready Will?" Calls Beverly from the passenger seat, twisting herself around to make eye contact, which he promptly avoids.

"As ever." He replies, already trying to tune out the various conversations starting within the van. One being between Beverly and Jack, who seem to be trying to determine routes for the drive, and the other being between Brian and Jimmy, who've taken it upon themselves to point out everything they spot from the windows of the vehicle.

Jack suddenly turns to face him. "You'll be glad to know we only have one stop left before we're on our way." He says, as if that's supposed to make up for the hours of driving and bickering between passengers. His statement also causes Will to guess where of all places they could be stopping, and as if sensing this Jack interrupts his thoughts. "We're paying the good doctor a visit, incase you're wondering."

As if his headache couldn't get any worse, this actually causes him to go into a state comparable to whiplash. Before he can protest against the inclusion of Dr. Lecter on their excursion Jack has already turned around and put the car into drive, pulling out of the snowy driveway and onto the road. _Great_ , he thinks, _as if today could get any better, now my therapist is tagging along_. Already feeling exhausted with this news, he leans his head against the cool window of the van and waits for sleep to overtake him.

***

Will wakes from his nap with a startled gasp, and a deep fear of not recognizing his surroundings. This of course, is immediately followed by the pink flush of embarrassment that spreads across his face as he both processes his location and stares back at the faces of his FBI colleagues. He then apologizes profusely before realizing with even greater embarrassment that Dr. Lecter has joined him in the back seat and is now looking at him pointedly with curiosity. This causes him to flush an even deeper shade of pink before covering his face with his hands, trying to rub the shame out of his face.

"Good morning Will." Hannibal says, still holding a gaze that bores through the protective cover of his hands. "Although maybe good isn't an accurate description, is it?" He muses.

"No, perhaps utterly shit would be better" Will groans back, earning a small quirk of the doctor's mouth, which is the closest thing to a smile he ever cares to give.

"Looks like we'll be sharing close quarters back here" Remarks the doctor, gesturing vaguely to the limited space the van provides them with.

Now realizing this himself, Will is forced to take a deep breath of air as though it's his last chance to do so. Suddenly overwhelmed, he finds himself unable to respond, and gives a disengaged nod.

Apparently deciding not to push the profiler further, Hannibal reaches into the trunk and pulls out a novel from his travel suitcase, much to Will's relief. Continuing to take a few breaths to steady himself, Will then fully takes in the other passengers in the small van. Beverly is seated in the passenger with headphones in looking rather peaceful, Will observes jealously. Jimmy and Brian have (thankfully) stopped talking and have taken to playing a game of tic-tac-toe on scrap pieces of paper. Jack on the other hand is entirely focused on the road, only breaking concentration to laugh at the two investigators games every so often. Surprisingly, the atmosphere is extremely relaxed 

Sighing, Will settles into his seat and decides to distract himself with the passing scenery. This actually proves to be extremely calming and he wonders if the rest of the trip might be this nice. That is, until all hell breaks lose. It starts with Beverly's iPod dying, causing her to utter a barely audible "Fuck." and take out her earbuds. This, apparently, is enough for Price to exclaim "Language Beverly!" in a voice that sounds utterly scandalized. Which in turn, causes Zeller to start a rant about how Price "works in a morgue" and "should be able to handle the f word". Jimmy then debates this by stating "You're the one who puked all over the last ripper victim", which then prompts Jack to yell a baffled "WHAT?" which is then followed by Zeller lunging at Price from his seat and attempting (unsuccessfully) to rip his head off.

"Jack?" Calls a steady and calm presence from the back seat. "Perhaps we'd be best to pull over at the next station."

Jack seems to agree, because within the next few minutes the van is stopped outside a Pit-Stop gas station, and he's berating the bickering couple like a scorned school teacher. Will is infinitely relieved for the break from the confines of the van, releasing a sigh he didn't even realized was trapped as he steps out of the vehicle. Hannibal follows after him and the two lean against the wall of the station, not uttering a word for the next minute as Will closes his eyes and attempts to cool off.

"I take it that gift of yours is proving rather unhelpful now, isn't it?" Remarks Hannibal, somehow always reading Will better than he can himself.

"Its- yeah, yeah that's exactly right." He admits, defeated. "There's just a lot of different emotions bouncing around in there."

"If you'd like, I could lend you a pair of earplugs?"

"No, no, you use those. I'd hate to be a bother, and besides, the body language in there is equally disturbing." He sighs. "And I doubt you have a-"

"Sleep mask? You'd be surprised." He says, accompanied by another one of his undecipherable grins. "And it's no bother at all Will, I'd be happy to lend them to someone who needs them. And I am your doctor after all, so take this as strict medical advice."

Will finds himself smiling at that, but before he can agree Beverly interrupts them, showcasing her haul of snacks from the Pit-Stop. "Check it!" She says, with a satisfied smirk on her face.

Will laughs at the display of chips, gummies, and jerky, and laughs even harder when he notices the way Hannibal's features crinkle in disgust. He pats him on the back with one last hardy chuckle before the three of them head back to van. They return to find Jack back in his seat, and the two investigators seemingly all made-up, giggling about something secret. After returning to his own spot in the back beside Lecter, Will finds a pair of silicone earplugs and a silk sleep mask beside him. A laugh escapes him before he can stop it.

"Something wrong with it?' Asks Dr. Lecter, looking almost offended.

"No, no!" Says will, still shaking off a fit of giggles. "It's just- _Silk?"_ He teases with a smile.

"Only the best of course, dear Will." He says now with a smile of his own, softening his usually sharp features.

The two continue chatting and laughing together like that until Will realizes the rest of the van has gone quiet. This causes a new wave of embarrassment to wash over his features, and he politely ends the conversation before slipping on the earbuds and mask. Once again he leans against the cool window, and feels himself drifting off to sleep in a matter of minutes.

***

"Will? Will wake up, we're here." Calls a soothing voice.

"Hmm?" Will mumbles sleepily, before jerking upright abruptly. "Where are we now?"

"Unfortunately we've found ourselves at a rather rundown inn" Explains Hannibal, with an obvious distain coating his voice.

"Oh." Says Will, slowly removing his sleep mask and standing, promptly hitting his head against the roof of the van.

Hannibal stifles a small chuckle, which doesn't go unnoticed by Will, who huffs in frustration while rubbing his head. Hannibal then leaves the vehicle and pulls both their bags out of the trunk, much to the younger man's dismay.

"Hannibal there's really no need to-" Will says, stepping out of the van himself, only to be quickly interrupted.

"Will, It's fine." And he says it with such conviction that Will finds himself convinced that it is, and resolves to following him into the small inn.

Once inside, the profiler realizes exactly what Hannibal meant by "rundown". The first thing he notices is the smell, which consists of cigarettes, sweat, and some type of mold. He then looks down at his feet, where he finds carpeted floor in a rather unfortunate shade of red. Glancing up again, Will sees Jack and the doctor discussing something with the woman at the front desk and think to join them, before looking to his right and seeing where he is obviously expected to wait. He walks over to where Jimmy, Brian, and Beverly are seated on a couch somehow even more appalling than the carpet. Refusing to sit amongst the various cigarette burns staining the cushions, Will finds himself standing rather awkwardly in the corner and picking at a scab on his hand given to him by a sketchy fishing lure.

Thankfully he isn't left to stand to long, as the two older men return from the desk holding three sets of keycards. This number is immediately noticed by Zeller, who gives a dramatic and overstated groan.

"Can it Brian." Says Jack, obviously sick of the attitude he's been receiving all trip. "As you can see the hotel only has three rooms to spare. This means we'll have to share in pairs. Me with Katz, Zeller with Price, and Will with Hannibal. Everyone good?"

Will opens his mouth to complain, but is quickly cut off.

"Perfect." Jack states, and with that tosses two keycards to Hannibal before spinning on his heels and taking off to his room, leaving Beverly to scramble to her feet and chase after him.

Hannibal then hands the next keycard off to Price, who accepts it with a smile, obviously way less disturbed by this than Will is. He then picks up his suitcase and extends and hand to help Zeller off the couch. Zeller slaps his hand away with fake offense before getting to his feet and following Price upstairs. This leaves only Hannibal and Will left, who make eye contact for a few seconds before Will wrenches his gaze away and to the floor.

"Will. What's wrong?" Asks the doctor, his ability to read the empath once again making Will curse internally.

"Isn't.. Isn't this weird for you at all?" Will asks, trying to make eye contact again but stopping just short of the man's chin.

Hannibal simply laughs and reaches a hand down to Will's chin, forcing him to make eye contact. "Will, this is quite possibly the weirdest day of my life"

And maybe it's the way he said it, or his deadpan expression as the sentence leaves his mouth, but Will is once again in stitches and wiping away tears that form at the corners of his eyes. "Of course." He sighs, now slightly more relaxed. "I forgot you're a wealthy psychiatrist being forced into a van and one-star hotel with a bunch of FBI agents."

Hannibal smiles back at the man below him before releasing the hand on his chin. At that Will yawns and stretches out his limbs that he didn't even realize had been tensed. "You're tired." Observes Hannibal. "Let's head to bed, shall we?" He asks, picking up their bags.

Will follows him up the stairs, but not before a blush creeps up the back of his neck at the implications of the sentence. _Snap out of it Graham!_ He thinks to himself. _You're just sharing a hotel room with a friend. It's not like you're sleeping together._

When Hannibal swings open the door to the room though, he realizes he was sorely mistaken. Jack had forgotten (or rather purposefully omitted) the fact that they'd only have one bed. Will is instantly overwhelmed once again, and makes a beeline for the bathroom. He hears his therapist call out to him, but has already shut and locked himself inside. He then sinks to the floor with his back against the door, and hangs his head in his hands. Trying his best to stop the hyperventilating, he takes long deep breaths that can no doubt be heard from the other side of the door. After his breathing has slowed, he rises and decides he needs to ground himself. Stripping his clothing, he makes his way to the shower and steps inside. Turning the dial to it's coldest temperature, Will lets the cold water flow and cover the entirety of his body. 

***

After leaving the comforts of the bathroom, he finds Hannibal lounging in an armchair beside the bed, reading glasses hanging just slightly off his nose. When he spots Will though, he pushes them back onto the bridge of his nose and looks up expectantly.

Will clears his throat before speaking. "I uh, I wanted to apologize for how I've been acting today. I'm um, really out of my element, but that's no excuse to treat you poorly." 

"It's quite alright Will, I honestly expected you to react much worse when I was told our circumstances for the next few days."

"Ouch!" Will jokes, clutching his chest in fake pain before seeing the apologetic expression on Hannibal's face. "I'm kidding. I'm actually relieved you don't hate me."

"I could never hate you, good Will." Hannibal states rather matter-of-factly. "Not ever."

This statement alone, along with Hannibal earnest expression cause him to avert his gaze and resort to picking at the scab on his hand. Only this time he realizes there is no scab, and blood is cooling down his knuckles. _Must've came off in the shower_ , he thinks. Realizing that staring at his bloody hand is probably a bit socially unacceptable, he diverts his attention back to Hannibal, who is already approaching him.

With a concerned look in his eyes, he takes Will's wrist into his hand and brings it close to his face for further inspection. "Will, let me clean this for you?" He says, more of a statement than a question. 

Will nods and lets himself be guided to the edge of the bed, where he sits with his wrist propped up in his hand while the doctor retrieves his med kit. He wants to tell him that the cut is small and not worth all this attention, but as soon as the man's tender gaze falls back on him, he finds himself mute.

Hannibal takes hold of the younger man's wrist once again, and wipes any blood still left with a small handkerchief. He then starts to wrap the man's knuckles in gauze. Once satisfied with the job, he sets Will's hand back into his lap.

"T-Thanks." Will says, embarrassed. "It was a tiny cut though, you didn't need to-"

"Risk of infection." Says Hannibal, firm and calm, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Now rest. We're back on the road again in the early morning." He adds, before turning and walking into the bathroom.

This leaves Will alone on the edge of the bed, staring down at his newly wrapped hand. He slowly removes his pants and flannel, leaving himself in just a pair of boxers and undershirt. He then clambers over to the inside of the bed and makes his way under the covers. It takes only a minute or so before he's asleep and blissfully unaware that in the room beside him, Hannibal is deeply inhaling the scent of the very handkerchief he used to tend to Will's wounds.


End file.
